A/N: Fiction will not follow the canon. Some dates will be accurate, some will not be. Inconsistent. Oh...and does anyone want to be my beta reader? plus: do you want to see how i picture the characters of my stories? their pictures can be found in the link i posted in my author's page. :)
im sorry for the few days of wait, this week is HELLISH. i actually have chapter 5 written but i didn't have much time to upload it. i have long tests and a play this weekend and i haven't slept very much although the good news is i've already written chapters 6 and 7...so yeah! :)
Titan D'Artangnia, jenn, tara, elrohir, dae, PrincessCelede, WolfGirlOfTheFlame, Orlando's Hot Chick - thanks! :)
Navaer Lalaith - I appreciate the help, i really would like to change the names and the elvish stuff but i'm afraid i'll just do that for the succeeding chapters. thanks again so much! :)
The Last Duchess - I've read your story when you started to write it back in 2002...i think I reviewed you back then, i was prodigalwriter. :) oh...and you ain't seen nuthin' yet (with the pairings... ;P)!
dark elvish angel of shadow - 2940? around that. :)
iwishchan - you'll see it soon. :)
Green Eyed Elf Goddess - i'll be doing more twists! ;)
remixer - wait. ;) i concieved an idea. ;)
Aielenamin
Chapter 5 - Suppressing Old Feelings
"I hear you've been the belle of Rivendell lately, especially when Arwen married Lord Aragorn."
"Impossible," Arienne scoffed loudly, rolling her eyes as she stretched herself on the bed. "With Elohir and Elledan refusing to get off my back all the time, it's a mystery how I even get to get out of my room."
"You've got it in for you now, dear seler', especially now that I'm about to get married," Kethaera said, warning her sister of her impending doom.
"Whatever do you mean by that?" Arienne asked puzzledly.
Her older sister pressed the tip of her sister's nose lightly, grinning mischievously. "Father will be pushing you endlessly into finding a suitable bridegroom, mark my words," she wistfully. "I heard him talk to Lord Morgeth about his son Giralfin—"
"GIRALFIN?!" Arienne screeched, horrified at the prospect, sitting up from her lying position next to her sister. "Oh Eru! He is disgusting! He shoves his finger up his nose every time he thinks no one is looking! I saw him do it dozens of times last night at the feast! When I pointed it out to Elledan, he spat out the Evermead that he was about to swallow! He even cut off in the middle of my dance with the prince! I had no choice but to let him hold my waist! I shudder to think where his hands have been before that!"
Kethaera laughed at her sister's shocked expression, sitting up herself as well. It had been a good night catching up with each other as they slept in Kethaera's room for the night. Both woke up at the same time after getting only a few hours of rest from all the catching up they did. "Don't worry dear one, I'm sure father will be good enough to find you a better husband," she remarked, pushing strands of stray hair away from her face. "I just wish father took a little more time in looking for a suitable husband for me," she added softly, the unmistakable flicker in her eyes very much like the one last night appeared once more.
Arienne frowned and said, "You're marrying Legolas, I mean, his highness, shouldn't you be excited about that?"
"I didn't have the same obsession you had for him even when I was younger," Kethaera pointed out, teasing the now-flushing elleth.
"I was but a child back then!" she protested hotly. "And besides, I thought you love each other. He told me so when we danced last night," she added softly.
"Legolas, Legolas," Kethaera mused, thinking about her future husband. She had known him for a long time and yet, she could not feel very comfortable around him. She loved the gay laughter and games that she always had in the palace, the constant activities and excitement of the days but Legolas, on the other hand, was more comfortable with his duties, sports and other quiet recreations. "He is a good choice, I can't complain about that. Yet, I feel that I cannot be myself when he is around," Kethaera started, choosing her words carefully. "Don't mistake me though, I love him...But it is more of a comfortable love, none of the passion I crave."
Arienne's heart seemed to leap at what her sister was saying but immediately felt guilty at how she was feeling. "What about the prince? What does he say about all these?"
The older elleth fingered the hem of her nightgown, staring of in the distance of the balcony, "He knew it was time to settle down for him and produce an heir. The way he treats me is like the brotherly way he used to treat you as a child. Somewhat protective but that is all it ever is and apparently, will be."
"Then why are you marrying him then if it's not all that you've ever really wanted?" Arienne asked, getting really confused about her sister and Legolas' choice about each other. Surely they felt something special about the other, other than just filial love?
Ketheara turned to the younger elf who was wearing a frown on her face. "Because at some point, you realize that there are qualities in him that are nobler than anyone in this land. And deep inside, you somehow hope that passion will result from the marriage one day. That is how both father and King Thranduil explained to me when I voiced out my repercussions."
"You told them you didn't love the prince?!" Arienne screeched for the second time that morning before having her mouth covered by her sister's hand. "You told them you didn't feel it was a right match? Are you out of your mind?!" she hissed at her sister incredulously.
She chuckled at her sister's reactions and shook her head. "I didn't say I didn't love him! I just, I knew that if I didn't speak up, I might end up in a marriage that is lacking in passion. I feel comfortable with him, I love his friendship, and yet we lack passion. I do not have any idea if we will even go through the mating ritual before the wedding," she added, uncomfortably blushing at the thought. "And besides, I do think that I will be a better wife than those insipid and vapid cows who have been after him for a long time."
"That's true," Arienne said thoughtfully, thinking that she wouldn't want to be in her sister's position that only has the faint promise of having true love only after getting married.
"Would you like to trade places with me? This is Legolas after all, the object of your childhood dreams," Kethaera said teasingly at her sister whose jaws dropped at the absurd proposal.
"Wha—huh—wha...?" Arienne sputtered, trying to piece out a coherent sentence at her sister's out of the blue suggestion. "Are you kidding me?!" she asked incredulously at her laughing sister. "The last time I saw that elf lord was when I was 14 years old, barely out of my diapers and now you want me to marry him? I don't even know the first thing about him anymore," she said, shaking her head.
Kethaera slid out of her four-poster bed, draped with translucent silver and blue silken cloth with a shrug. "Well, it is just a suggestion. Oh well, it can't be that bad, right? He is terribly handsome," she said, winking at her sister.
"Why do you think I had that childish crush? Because he was the King's son? Nay. Only because he was handsome," Arienne said laughing with her sister, pulling on her slippers and robe. "We really should get ready; we'll soon be called for breakfast."
After Breakfast...
Arienne decided to visit the old places the she used to spend so much time in when she was a child. With a book in hand and her green cape in another, she strapped the small dagger Elohir and Elledan had gifted her. They said it's better to be armed and not know how to use it than to be seen without one. They never allowed her to go off on her own unless she showed them that she had the dagger securely strapped on her ankle and concealed well by her boots.
Choosing to pass through the gardens, she spied the old well where she used to drop in rocks. The last time she saw it, the curved blocks were beautifully white-washed and the wooden bucket atop the ledge. Now some blocks were missing and the bucket was nowhere to be found. Take'th and lost, she mused to herself, continuing her walk. She missed the old mallorn trees that she befriended long time ago so she began her long trek towards the woods to rekindle the old friendships she had. Being among the old and sturdy trees soothed her, she could hear their whispers of recognition upon seeing her. Finding the old mallorn tree that she once used to climb up on to spy on Legolas, she situated herself, marveling at the beautiful expanse of the lands. As a child, she did not savor the sights; only one caught her eye back then. But now, on the branch, older and wiser, she found that she could see the valley, the elven flets dotting the tress below as well as the grandiose manors of the lords and ladies, placed higher up the grounds. The clear blue sky roofing the enchanting Eryn Lagaslen.
Sighing contentedly, she opened her book and started to read. The book was borrowed from the private library of Elrond in Rivendell, The Lord of the Rings by Bilbo and Frodo Baggins. She had known Bilbo and found him to be an animated story-teller. She had enjoyed countless days just listening to him tell his tales about dragons and adventures.
She lovingly fingered the spine of the beautifully written book. It wasn't the first time she read about the heroics of the Nine Walkers, especially the ones about Legolas. But her mind drifted off frequently to the conversation she had with her sister that morning. I can't believe she actually suggested that, she reflected with a soft smile. Seeing the prince last night was truly a shock and yet, there it still was: the way he treated her as if she was still a young child. She had grown up physically, but to the prince, she was still aielenamin, his little star. Old habits truly die hard, she added half-saddened by the thought as she continued to stare at the map of the Shire that Bilbo Baggings had drawn on the book.
The elleth almost missed hearing the heavy hooves that were coming her way due to her thoughts. Gazing at the approaching sounds, she saw the prince riding a beautiful, spirited and terrifyingly large horse as he guided another horse behind them. It was snorting like a very angry beast, driving itself to ride faster. Melithel, her mare, was behind it, trying to catch up with the speeding horse.
She waited as they approached her, the prince spying her as she stood up on the branch that she was on. "Kethaera told me I might find you here," he shouted from below, rearing his horse carefully. "Come down from there, I want to introduce you to someone," he said smiling, watching her vault the branch easily to reach the bottom.
Arienne approached Melithel, rubbing its velvety nose affectionately, "Did you miss me, you beautiful creature?"
"Of course, I did," Legolas answered with a grin.
"Oh, I'm sorry. I said beautiful creature, not orc-face," she smirked at the prince who was dismounting from his large steed laughing. "So who do you want me to meet?"
"Do you remember the horse that almost killed you?"
"By any chance that's him?" she asked nervously, glancing cautiously at the large beast who eyed her with its depthless eyes, snorting at them. It had an inky black coat, shiny as if it had been oiled throughout its body, its height almost towering Legolas who was calmly looking at her.
"This is one of its descendants, Morsul. But everyone calls it, Ostaen'lote," he said drolly, scratching his head watching her dissolve in peals of laughter upon learning the huge, intimidating horse's name.
"Who in Elbereth's name gave him that name?!" she choked out, clutching her sides, looking at the huge horse who was now sniffing her mare.
"Errrr, the horse master thought it would be amusing to call him as such," he explained with a exasperated sigh. "He is my horse," he coughed out, hoping she would not hear that bit.
But she did and that made her laugh even harder, bracing her frame on Melithel's body. "Oh it fits so well! Defender of Flowers! Oh Eru! I'm assuming that you're the flower that he's supposed to defend?" she asked, laughter still twinkling in her eyes, trying to regain her composure.
"Believe me, aielenamin, I tried to suppress people from calling him that but he won't answer to any other name but Ostaen'lote," he said sardonically, remembering the teasing he gets every time he has to call the horse when he's with friends. But he wouldn't trade the horse for anything; it was swift as its original name suggests, Black Wind. And it was very loyal and protective towards its master. "Would you care to ride with me?" he asked the lady in front of him.
"I'd love too, as soon as the Great Defender of Flowers moves its face away from the behind of my mare," she said, her lifting her eyebrow at the scene before them that prince had apparently missed.
The prince muttered soft curses as he pulled the horse away from the mare, shaking its head in disapproval. "It seems to have developed an attraction to Melithel," he said, helping her up her horse. "The lilies are abloom in the west bank right now, would you care to see them?" he asked, smiling as her face lit up with the prospect of seeing lilies. He knew that even though there were lilies in Rivendell, there was a better quality of the specie in Mirkwood, the creamier color and the more subdued fragrance was more appealing to the elleth than the ones in the Last Homely House.
"I'd love that," she said softly, remembering the one lily she had lost when she had last seen the prince as a child. Both of their horses were in a comfortable canter as they talk about shallow things, about the feast the night before.
"What book were you reading when I came?" he asked her, glancing at her, the book being clutched by her left hand.
Arienne smiled, showing him the cover of the book to the prince who groaned upon reading the title. "I actually enjoy reading it, this isn't the first time I've read it," she said watching him cringe at her words.
"I can't believe that hobbit wrote everything down," he jokingly muttered to himself, obviously uncomfortable that someone was reading about what he and the rest did to save Middle Earth five years ago.
"I must say, the little hobbit proved to be a good writer. It says here in a section especially dedicated to Legolas Thranduillon, Prince of Eryn Lagaslen, Son of Thranduil Thranduillon, ...The valiant elf had slain most of the goblins in the Mines of Moria with the aid of his bow, as well as killing the cave troll in the tomb of Balin, thus saving my life. He killed hundreds of yrch in the last battle as well as thundering Oliphants—"
"Oh do stop Arienne," he asked, obviously blushing.
"But it was truly a brave thing you did," she said, glancing at him before closing the book.
"I am a warrior and it was my duty," he answered, downplaying his noble and heroic deeds. Deciding to change the topic quickly "Kethaera tells me that your father might marry you off soon," he casually stated at the elf who unconsciously frowned at the comment. She still wears her emotions on her sleeves, Legolas thought to himself.
"I try not to think about it, believe me," she answered. "My father seems to be hell-bent on finding me a husband who will thoroughly disgust me. Take for example Lord Giralfin, the snotty elf last night," she shuddered at the memory which made Legolas chuckle.
"I think your father will find someone suitable, I think I'm suitable enough for Kethaera," he said with a hint of arrogance.
Arienne rolled her eyes at him, shaking her head. "You're beginning to believe that statement already, my lord," she said drolly.
"Still the same old Arienne, shooting me down," he said fondly to her.
"Not quite the same, my lord—"
"Will you stop it with the 'my lord' business?!"
"As soon as you stop treating me like a child," she retorted.
"How so do I do that?" he asked puzzledly to her.
"You call me by my childhood pet name," she reminded him. "Aielenamin?"
"You don't want me to call you that?"
"Well, seeing that I am not a child anymore, I should think not. Arienne will do now."
"So will Legolas," he told her. "I am marrying your sister and I think it'll be better if you call me that."
"Oh alright, as long as it will be Arienne," she sighed.
"Going back to the part where you were not quite the same..." Legolas trailed, going back to their previous subject.
"Oh. I'm not quite the same, as you see. Because for starters, I'm not the same hin as before whom practically worshipped the ground you walked on," she started wryly, not feeling awkward declaring how loony she must have acted before. "
Legolas laughed as she admitted her actions. "And tell me Arienne, what's so wrong about worshipping the ground I walk on?"
"Merely that the trail you leave stinks like an orc's droppings, now that I remember it," she said breezily.
"Ouch. Straight to my royal heart," he said dryly. "But I am glad that you ceased your foolish actions such as climbing up trees just to spy on me, or asking the head guard where I am to follow me even if I am hunting in the woods," he said amusedly. "It was a good thing you barely had injuries from those escapades of yours."
"You knew about that?!"
"Of course, it wasn't that hard to spot those bright colored dressed Nyeath made you wear those days as you tried to stay concealed behind the leaves. Truth is that I knew you were hiding on that same mallorn tree the day you were almost killed." But before she could say anything else, he declared that they had arrived in the west bank. The horses would not be able to walk through the fields for it was filled with lilies and they might trample on them.
Arienne's breath was caught in her throat seeing the fields filled with lilies in their fully bloomed glory. Leaving behind the prince, she walked to the fields and spread down her cape. She sat down amidst the small field, inhaling the subdued scent, filling her lungs of the almost forgotten fragrance.
At that same moment, it wasn't only Arienne's breath whose breath had been caught in their throat as she savored the view. Legolas had tied the horses near the clearing away from the fields and when walked back, he saw one of the most beautiful pictures he had ever seen. His aielen sitting on her green cape, her eyes closed, with her pert nose high, smelling the flowers around her. The cool breeze had lifted the dark strands of her hair away from her face, letting them flow freely. I knew she'd grow up to be beautiful, but not this exquisite, he thought to himself, still in a trance. He couldn't tear his eyes away from the beautiful scene until he saw her open her eyes and look at him.
"Come, sit with me," she called out, patting the space next to her before plucking one lily near her.
And he gladly did.
Translations:
Ostaen'lote - Defender of Flowers
hin - child
aielen - little star
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